Chronicles of Narnia: Daughter of Eve
by Shadow - MCRmy
Summary: Full Title, Daughter of Eve: Guardian of the Pevensies and Defender of Narnia, Too small to type a summary, the beginning of the prologue is basically a summary. Rating it M just because I'm not sure how descriptive I'll be.
1. Prologue

**To all the future readers of this story, I really hope that it takes you on the adventure of Narnia in a new, special and exciting way. I have really worked hard on this story ever since I watched the film, which was FANTASTIC, by the way. I hope you enjoy my story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Please take time to Review, as your comments will be well-received.**

** Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia, Aslan, Peter Pevensie (though I wish I did), his siblings, or the movie and books. Only my own character and my own plot is my creation.**

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**Prologue**

_Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,  
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,  
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death  
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again._

_Some journeys take us far from home…_

_Some adventures lead us to our destiny._

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A prophecy was made long ago…_

_When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone  
Sits at Cair Paravel in throne,  
The evil time will be over and done._

_Two sons of Adam, and Two daughters of Eve will appear…_

_They will defeat the White Witch; bring an end to the hundred-year winter,  
and restore peace to Narnia._

_But one, a daughter of Eve, shall come before the four, and will be skilled  
in the ways of combat…_

_For this one will aid the four in the destruction of the White Witch, bringing peace to Narnia…_

_This one shall be bound to protect the High King and his siblings, and is destined  
to lead the armies of Narnia against its foes._

_And through immeasurable adversity, this one soon shall reign with  
the High King she once served and protected._

_This is that story…_

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_White…_

That was all that could be seen, a never-ending expanse of snow and ice. Nobody was certain how long the land of Narnia had been covered with the blanket of white, though the older, wiser creatures reckoned that it was nearing a hundred years.

_A hundred years…_

To the lone figure crouching at the edge of the valley in the deep snow, dressed entirely in light grey, with a thick cloak in the same shade wrapped around it's shoulders, it felt as though the land of Narnia had only been around that long. There was no denying that, occasionally, the snow that covered every inch of Narnia looked almost beautiful, if it weren't for the biting, icy wind that blew constantly and furiously.

Amongst the deep, freezing snow in the north, a giant, foreboding castle made entirely of ice stood in a barren, frosty valley. The lofty, ice towers looked like glistening, upright, jagged knives that appeared to touch the sky, but were dwarfed by the great mountain's twin imposing summits that created the harsh valley that the glacial, wintry castle was set in.

Under the hood of the moist, snow-covered cloak, a pair of warm, dark-brown eyes surveyed the glacial castle. Nothing that moved in the windswept valley, though not many things moved near the castle of the White Witch, escaped the brown eyes that never wavered, the warm eyes that always remained watchful and alert.

The appearance of a human, a young boy, heading towards the castle caught the figure's attention, who was crouching beside some shrubbery on a slight rock face. Watching closely as the young boy strode toward the castle with disconcerting purpose, the figure became troubled. Either the young boy was unaware of what the castle contained, or he knew exactly who lived there, and that was cause for grave concern.

The arrival of an animal and another three humans dressed in fur coats at the entrance to the barren valley made the figure's focus shift from the young boy towards them. Squinting its brown eyes, the crouching figure studied each of the odd quartet one after another.

The first was a native creature, which the figure recognized to be one of the beavers that lived on the small lake at the edge of the western woods, near the Allies' enclave. The second was a young, petite girl with short, light brown hair and about 8 summers old. The third was also a girl, though considerably older than the small girl, with brown hair, medium in height and looked around 13 summers.

However, it was the final member of the quartet that held the figure's intense brown eyes the longest.

Tall and sturdy, the lad looked as though he was well into his teenage years, probably around 15 summers old. His hair was a rich blonde, almost the colour of the flaxen vegetation that grew near the borders of Owlwood forest. His eyes were a cloudy grey, like the clouds that permanently covered the skies of Narnia and continued to bring the endless snow.

The figure's eyes were torn from the teenage lad when the sound of the castle's immense doors beginning to close reached its ears. Watching with troubled eyes, the figure gazed at the doors as they slowly creaked shut.

The brown eyes of the figure returned to the quartet when the teenage lad began to run forward, before being stopped by the small beaver. The teenage lad and the two young girls watched helplessly as the icy doors finally shut, sealing their companion inside.

The quartet stood still for seconds, though it seemed like minutes to the figure, before they finally turned and left, heading south, undoubtedly to the beaver's home. The figure returned its gaze to the impenetrable ice castle, closing its eyes for a brief moment. But the image of a teenager with blonde hair and cloudy grey eyes remained imprinted on the back of the figure's mind.

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**AN: Only the Prologue will be up until I get at least 10 chapters done. I've finished 3 so far, but am continuing to write with inspiration. **


	2. The Ranger

**Ok! I said I wasn't going to post any more chapters until I had written a good many more, but I have decided to post Chapter One, just to wet your appetites a bit. However, the comment from the previous chapter still stands, though this time I will post again after I have written 5 chapters. A compromise!**

**Thanks to MonDieu666 and Kal's Gal for being my first reviewers. I'm so glad you like the story so far. Hope you enjoy this chapter! **

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** Chapter One**

**The Ranger**

The sound of a deep, hearty laugh resonated through the air, while the old man known as Father Christmas eased himself into the large sleigh, after re-loading a heavy bag onto the back.

"I best be off, winter is almost over and things do pile up when you've been gone a hundred years. Long live Aslan!" Father Christmas said in a jolly voice, before snapping the reins and speeding away across the snow.

"Bye... merry Christmas!" the three Pevensies yelled.

"Told you he was real!" Lucy exclaimed, pointing at Peter. Susan and Peter laughed; then they started to examine their presents.

"They really are nice presents. Aren't they, Peter?" Susan commented, gazing at her quiver, admiring the craftsmanship.

There was no reply. Susan looked up from her quiver to find Peter standing still, staring out across the frozen lake they had recently crossed in haste, when they had thought the White Witch was chasing them in her sleigh. Thankfully, it had not been the White Witch but Father Christmas, who had proceeded to give the three of them presents, explaining that they would need them in the near future.

Lucy had received a small knife and a bottle of cordial made from the fire flower, which Father Christmas had said would heal any injury with only one drop. Susan had received a beautiful bow, with a quiver of arrows, and an ornately carved horn. Peter had been given a fine sword and a shield, which had a depiction of a rearing lion.

"Peter?" Susan asked, coming and standing beside him. She was about to ask him what was wrong, when she caught sight of what her oldest brother was obviously staring at.

"Beaver," Peter said. Beaver and his wife, Mrs. Beaver came over and stood next to Peter, looking at where Peter was pointing and staring.

"What…who is that?" Peter asked.

On the other side of the frozen lake, almost blending-in with the ice, a figure, clad entirely in light grey was slowly moving forward in a crouching position, keeping its head facing downwards. The figure put a gloved hand on the snow-dusted ice, finding and examining the tracks left by the sleigh of Father Christmas.

A soft whistle was then heard, and the figure lifted its left arm parallel with the now-clear sky. A few seconds later, the cry of a bird was heard, and a majestic hawk landed on the figure's outstretched arm. The figure lifted its head, gazing at the hawk, but all Peter could see of the figure's face was the pair of warm eyes, a rich dark-brown, almost like the colour of chocolate.

The figure reached its right hand inside its thick cloak, and retrieved what was, obviously, a small piece of food, and fed it to the hawk. After a few minutes, the figure returned the hawk to the sky and went back to examining the faint tracks on the ice.

Suddenly, a piercing howl was heard across the wind, chilling the bones of the three Pevensies. The figure turned its head and looked behind itself, but stayed completely still. Apparently seeing something that the Pevensies and beavers could not, the figure leapt to its feet and began running, at a very swift pace, across the frozen lake towards the land and where the Pevensie siblings and their animal counterparts were standing.

There was a mad scramble as Peter picked Lucy up, and grabbing Susan by the arm, followed the beavers to a hiding place under the roots of a great tree. After settling themselves under the roots, the group returned their gaze to the figure, who had run up the path made by the sleigh and hid amongst a small grove of trees.

Peter suddenly noticed that the colour of the cloak which the figure wore had changed slightly, and had become a mixture of light grey, like the snow, and a pale brown, similar to the bark of the trees which the figure was hiding amongst. Only then did Peter also notice that the figure had a full quiver of arrows strapped across its back, and a bow secured behind the strap of the quiver.

The tugging of his arm fiercely by Susan abruptly interrupted Peter's scrutiny of the figure.

"Peter, look," Susan said, pointing past the figure towards the frozen lake. Peter followed her arm to be greeted with the sight of 10 wolves, undoubtedly the wolves which had been chasing them not more than a day ago. Peter took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and hugged Lucy closer to him, as she held her hands over her mouth, trying to refrain from making any noise.

"What?" Peter whispered in annoyance, when Susan tugged on his arm again, making him take his eyes off the pack of wolves. Susan said nothing, but pointed in the direction of the figure. Peter looked to see that the figure had removed the bow from its position behind the quiver, and at that point, was slowly removing two arrows from the quiver. The figure fitted the two arrows to the bow, and steadily pulled the bow back, aiming at the pack of wolves.

It seemed like a lifetime that the figure was crouched there, grasping the bow flawlessly still, the points of the arrows aimed at the wolves. But then, a quiet 'twang' was heard, and the arrows were released almost silently, flying towards their targets.

Howls of fury and grief were suddenly heard, echoing against the trees, as the arrows buried deep into two wolves' necks, killing them instantly. The figure started to creep backwards, returning the bow to its place behind the quiver. Peter was confused, but when he saw the wolves begin to spread out, obviously searching for the culprit of their counterparts' deaths, he understood perfectly.

Beaver began to pull them away from under the tree. "We should keep moving, the wolves will soon pick up our scent," he said, crawling into the open.

Peter grabbed Susan and Lucy's hands, and together, they crawled out from under the tree; then followed after the two beavers. Peter ran to catch up to Beaver.

"Beaver," Peter asked. "Who was that?"

"I'm not entirely certain," Beaver said. "But if my memory serves me correctly, that was the Ranger."

"The Ranger?" Mrs. Beaver questioned. "That was the Ranger?"

"Who's the Ranger?" Peter asked, while Susan's face mirrored the same question.

"On the word of the inhabitants, mostly the non-talking animals, of Narnia, the Ranger is Aslan's closest and most trusted ally, exceptionally loyal, and is his undisclosed scout and spy," Beaver stated. "Only the non-talking animals know these sorts of things, the Ranger is known to be very friendly to the animals, so the non-talking ones know the Ranger the best. But the Ranger also doesn't stay long anywhere, part of being a spy for Aslan, I suppose."

Beaver shrugged. "I myself met the Ranger on one occasion, when I was searching for nuts and berries to store at the dam. Spoke to me very kindly, the Ranger did, gave me some tasty bread to eat, and inquired about the state of the forest. Never saw the Ranger's face, only the dark-brown eyes, but the Ranger's voice was…oh, how do you say it… sort of youthful sounding."

Beaver paused, taking time to breathe, while Peter, Susan and Lucy had managed to catch up and now waited impatiently. Irritated, Mrs. Beaver smacked Beaver on the nose, as if telling him to hurry up.

"Ok, dear, ok," Beaver said, rubbing his nose. "Rumour has it that the Ranger comes from the same land that you humans hail from. But as I said, I've never seen the Ranger's face, so there is no way of knowing for sure. Actually, as far as I know, no one in Narnia, except for the great Aslan, has ever seen the Ranger's face, appearance, or know whether the Ranger is male or female. The reason, I don't know why, but the forest animals say it is the Ranger's choice and Aslan's request."

"Strange, if you ask…" Lucy began, but Peter quickly cupped his hand over her mouth.

"Lucy," Peter chided, whispering in her ear. "Don't be rude about someone we don't know."

"I hope that's enough facts to be thinking about," Beaver said. "I'm afraid that's all I know."

Susan shrugged, while Peter looked almost thoughtful, as if pondering all the information that Beaver had just given them. Silence reigned over the group as they continued to trudge through the snow, heading towards the river.

"Did you hear what Father Christmas said... winter is almost over," Peter said suddenly. "You know what that means... no more ice!"

"Come on!" Beaver exclaimed. "We must cross the river before it melts!"

The two beavers darted off quickly towards the river, Susan grasping Lucy's hand and following, with Peter close behind. But as they rushed through the thick forest, Peter took a quick glance over his shoulder.

Through the snow-dusted trees, he saw a figure in grey-brown apparel mounting a magnificent, midnight black horse, watching them for a moment as they all ran, before galloping away swiftly to the east.

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**There you go! Hope that was good enough for you! Please take time to review, it means a lot to know what you all think. Not too many flames, please!**


	3. Narrow Escape

**Ok, I've given in. Here is the second chapter. Hope you all enjoy it. Thanks immensely to everyone who took the time to review. **

**Disclaimer: Refer to the Prologue... **

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**Chapter Two**

_Narrow Escape_

"Wait, maybe we should think about this," Susan said, upon seeing the ice already partly broken, and the river flowing quite fast.

"We don't have time," Peter replied impatiently, holding Lucy's hand.

"I was just trying to be realistic," Susan protested, glaring at Peter.

"No, you're trying to be smart…as usual!" Peter retorted. Susan looked ready to reply, but the distant howls changed her mind.

The three Pevensies, led by Peter, began to step onto the snow-covered ice, but it started to sink under their weight. Lucy gasped as she felt the ice shift underneath them, and gripped Peter's hand tighter.

"Wait," Beaver said, stopping Peter. "Maybe I should go first."

"Maybe you should," Peter replied nervously.

Beaver stepped in front of Peter and started to lead the way, taking the smallest of steps at a time. The loose ice creaked and groaned under the combined weight of the group crossing and the force of the already melted water rushing beneath it.

"You've been sneaking second helpings, haven't you?" Queen fussed at Beaver.

"Well, you never know what meal is going to your last, especially with your cooking," Beaver commented, continuing to walk forward.

"If Mum knew what we were doing…" Susan began.

"Mum's not here!" Peter exclaimed, getting irritated.

"Oh no!" Lucy cried, pointing behind them. Peter and Susan turned to see the pack of wolves charging towards them, snarling and snapping.

"Run!" Peter yelled.

But it was too late. The wolves' leader, Maugrim, and two others leapt onto the ice in front of the group. One of the wolves grabbed Beaver by the back of his neck and pinned him roughly to the ice. Peter pulled his sword out of the sheath, and holding it with both hands, pointed it straight at Maugrim.

"Put that down, boy, someone might get hurt," Maugrim said, growling at Peter.

"Don't worry about me!" Beaver pleaded. "Slit his throat!"

"Leave now while you can, and your brother leaves with you," Maugrim continued.

"Stop Peter, maybe we should listen to him!" Susan shouted.

"Smart girl," Maugrim commented.

"Don't listen to him. Kill him. Kill him now!" Beaver yelled.

"Look, just because some man in a red suit hands you a sword doesn't make you a hero!" Susan argued. "So just drop it!"

"No, Peter!" Beaver cut in. "Narnia needs ya!"

"What's it going to be, Son of Adam?" Maugrim asked. "We're not going to wait forever."

"And neither is the river," a youthful voice called out.

Peter and his sisters followed Maugrim's gaze. They were greeted with the sight of a now-familiar figure dressed in light grey holding a drawn bow, fitted with two arrows, crouching on a crag on the side of the river that Peter and the others were trying to get too, the midnight black horse standing nearby grazing.

Quick as lightning, the arrows were released towards the many wolves. One took out a wolf heading for the Pevensie siblings from behind, the other brought down the wolf trapping Beaver on the ground.

"PETER!" Lucy screamed, terrified.

A thunderous noise resounded over the scuffle, which made everyone stop and stand still in fear. The frozen waterfall towering above had suddenly cracked and popped, and the water that was already melted from the rapids above the waterfall was ready to burst forth.

Peter glanced helplessly up at the grey-clad figure sitting on the midnight black horse, who was unfortunately, because of the melting waterfall, unable to come and help them. Peter then knew what he had to do, and smiled reassuringly at the figure, who thankfully, immediately seemed to understand.

As the figure turned and briskly rode away, Peter raised his sword high above his head; then plunged it into the ice between him and Maugrim. A massive crack slowly formed around the piece of ice that the siblings and beavers were balancing on, and separated from the rest of the still-frozen ice.

"Hold onto me!" Peter yelled.

The waterfall groaned and started to spray rivulets of cold, icy water into the river below it; then with a mighty crack, the rest of the ice from the waterfall collapsed into the river, making waves as it connected with the moving water.

The beavers clung to the coats of the girls, while Susan and Lucy held firmly onto Peter's arms, as he grasped the hilt of his sword, which was still stuck securely in the ice. With the momentum of the waves, the ice raft containing the group floated gratifyingly away downriver.

A ways downriver, the ice raft finally floated to shore. Everyone climbed, shivering from the cold water. Susan turned to Peter, about to say something, but her face took a hysterical look. "Peter…" Susan wailed, pointing at his hand.

Peter lifted to be met with the sight of Lucy's fur coat, but shockingly, no Lucy. Peter's face became frantic, while he looked around rapidly, trying to find Lucy.

"What have you done?" Susan cried. Peter was speechless; he couldn't say anything to reply to Susan.

"Lucy!" everyone yelled worriedly.

"Has anyone seen my coat?" a voice asked. Everyone turned to see Lucy standing there, freezing cold and wet, but all right. Susan's eyes welled up and she ran to Lucy.

"Your brother has you well looked after," Beaver said knowingly. Everybody laughed, while the siblings shared a great big hug.

"Wasn't it a great help that the Ranger showed up?" Lucy asked.

"Yes, it sure was," Peter replied, handing Lucy her wet fur coat.

"I don't think you'll be needing those fur coats anymore!" Queen said cheerfully. "Look, spring is arriving!"

Peter, Susan and Lucy looked all around them. Flowers were coming out into bloom, and the snow was slowly melting into the ground, revealing rich, fertile green grass. Leaving their coats by the riverside, they started walking again, continuing to head towards Aslan's camp.

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**There you go. Hope you liked it. Again, please review!  
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	4. Arrivals, Aslan and Peter’s First Battle

**Sorry it's taken so long. I've been mega busy, so I won't be able to spend as much time on this story as I would like. Hope all of you like this chapter, it's almost time to un-mask the Ranger. Can anyone guess who the Ranger is yet? Write me if you think you know.  
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**Disclaimer: Refer to the Prologue... **

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**Chapter Three**

_Arrivals, Meeting Aslan and Peter's First Battle_

By the time all the ice and snow had gradually melted into the ground, and the clouds had rolled away, revealing the sun and warming the vibrant landscape, Peter, Susan and Lucy and the two beavers had nearly reached the camp of Aslan, located in a sloping, grassy canyon.

A warm breeze caressed their faces as Peter, Susan and Lucy walked through the soft grass towards Aslan's camp, taking the sweet-smelling air into their lungs. Hearing faint whispers behind her, Lucy turned to see that the petals of the pink flowers had created the figure of a pretty female dryad, which was waving at her. Lucy, smiling brightly, waved vigorously back before running to catch up with her older siblings.

Upon entering the camp of Aslan, the numerous creatures and Talking animals that were part of the vast army, who were going about their work, polishing their weapons and mending other things, stopped whatever they were doing and just stared at the three Pevensies as they walked through the main path of the camp.

"Why are they all staring at us?" Susan asked nervously, looking around at the army.

"Maybe they think you look funny," Lucy replied cheekily.

Peter smiled happily as he watched his two sisters banter, while feeling slightly self-conscious himself at all the creatures staring at them. He glanced down at the two beavers, who were also muttering to each other quietly. Peter was unable to hear what they were saying, but he managed to pick up one comment that Beaver made to his wife.

"Queen, stop your fussing," Beaver said, poking his wife. "You look lovely."

Peter laughed quietly upon hearing that remark, because Queen had been discreetly combing her fur out, trying to make it look better, but Beaver had obviously noticed. Finally coming to a halt, the group stood before a red tent on a small rock plateau. A tall, muscular centaur with long brown hair stood a ways from the tent, talking quietly with a satyr.

Peter slowly unsheathed his sword, and held it out in front of him. "We have come to see Aslan," he said clearly, looking at the centaur.

Then, the red tent began to blow delicately in the breeze, making the flags sway and petals from the flowers waft about. All the inhabitants of the camp, minus the three Pevensies, knelt reverently before the tent. The entrance flaps of the tent slowly parted to the sides, making the three children stand there in anticipation, waiting for what would emerge from inside.

Slowly and impressively, a majestic male lion, his mane glowing yellowish-brown in the sunlight, strode out of the tent's entrance. His amber eyes, which gazed at the children as he strode forward, were humble and wise, the sign of a true ruler. The sight of Aslan in all his majesty took Peter's breath away as Aslan walked slowly towards Peter and his sisters. But what Peter saw next made his breath catch in his throat.

Following silently behind the great shape of Aslan, wearing the same apparel, though now it was entirely dark green, and not visibly bearing any weapons, was the Ranger. Walking over and standing by the centaur, the Ranger watched Aslan and the three Pevensies silently and observantly. Peter and his siblings knelt before Aslan, bowing their heads.

"Welcome Peter, Adam's son. Welcome Susan and Lucy, daughters of Eve. Welcome Beavers, you have my thanks," Aslan said, sitting back. "But where is the fourth?"

"That's why we're here," Peter began.

"We had a little trouble along the way," Susan continued.

"Our brother's been captured by the White Witch," Peter finished, feeling an intense gaze on him.

"Captured!" Aslan remarked. "How could this be?"

"He betrayed them, Sire!" Beaver cut in.

"Then he has betrayed us all!" the centaur announced, anger in his voice.

"Peace, Oreius," the Ranger suddenly spoke, silencing the entire army with the simple, two-word statement. "I'm sure there's an explanation."

The Ranger looked directly at Peter, staring him piercingly in the eyes.

"It is my fault, really," Peter said quietly. "I was too hard on him."

"We all were," Susan remarked sadly, looking at Peter.

"Sir, he's our brother," Lucy exclaimed deeply, staring at Aslan.

"I know, dear, but that only makes the betrayal all the worse," Aslan replied calmly. "This may be harder than you think."

Peter and Susan exchanged worried looks, and Susan wrapped her arm around Lucy's shoulders.

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After Peter had eaten and rested, he had been given a change of clothes. A pair of brown leggings and boots, a light blue shirt that hung between his hips and knees, and a leather tunic to wear over the shirt. Wearing his sword around his waist, Peter had been brought by Aslan to the cliff overlooking the camp below. From the cliff, a view of the eastern landscape of Narnia was also clearly and beautifully visible. Across the landscape of rolling hills, Peter caught sight of a magnificent castle built atop a soaring cliff looking out over the sea, reflecting the sun's brilliant rays.

"That is Cair Paravel of the four thrones, in one of which you will sit, Peter, as High King," Aslan explained to Peter.

Peter looked down at the ground, doubt clearly evident in his eyes and on his face, trying not to show this to Aslan, but failed.

"You doubt the prophecy," Aslan stated.

"No, that's just it…" Peter trailed off, when he saw the Ranger appear, now wearing a quiver and bow, and sit on a rock near to Aslan. "I'm not who you think I am."

"Peter Pevensie, formerly of Finchley," Aslan asserted. "Beaver also mentioned you planned to turn him into a hat."

Peter smiled and looked down, remembering the comment he had made to Susan in frustration, while Aslan laughed lightly.

"Peter, there is a Deep Magic, more powerful than any of us that rules over Narnia," Aslan said seriously. "It defines right from wrong and fulfil all our destines, both yours and mine."

"But I couldn't even protect my own family," Peter exclaimed.

"You brought them safely this far," the Ranger said unexpectedly, looking Peter in the eyes.

"Not all of them," Peter replied sadly, glancing at the Ranger and Aslan.

"I…we will do what we can for Edmund," Aslan said, gesturing over to the Ranger. "I too want my family safe."

Peter stooped his head, thanking Aslan, relief written on his face. He glanced at the Ranger, unsure of how to thank the unknown character sitting on the rock. The Ranger put the left hand to its head, and bowed its head slowly towards Peter.

Suddenly, the wind blew and the Ranger stood up quickly, as if listening to something. Then, the three individuals heard the clear sound of a horn ringing through the forest, making Peter's blood go ice-cold.

"Susan!" Peter exclaimed, running towards the sound of the horn, Aslan and the Ranger following closely behind him. They ran swiftly through the trees, heading towards the river, where Susan and Lucy had gone to wash and change.

Arriving at the river, Peter saw Susan and Lucy climbing up a tree, with a wolf, which appeared to be Maugrim, snapping ferociously at their feet, together with another wolf standing by. Peter charged through the river, unsheathing his sword, as Susan hauled her feet up away from the wolf.

"Get back!" Peter yelled at Maugrim, his sword pointed out straight.

"We both know you haven't got it in you," Maugrim sneered.

"Peter! Watch out!" Susan and Lucy yelled as the two wolves encircled him.

Aslan attacked the second wolf and pinned it to the ground, growling loudly at it as the Ranger came to stand beside him, with its bow drawn and an arrow notched. Oreius and a band of soldiers then appeared through the trees, as Peter walked towards Maugrim.

"Stay your weapons," Aslan commanded to the troops. "This is Peter's battle."

Maugrim moved in closer to Peter, baring his rotten teeth. "You may think you're a king, but you're going to die…LIKE A DOG!" Maugrim growled and snapped. He then attacked, hitting Peter point-blank and knocking them both brutally to the ground, falling on top of him.

"Peter…NO!" Susan and Lucy screamed together.

They leapt out of the tree and ran over to him, shoving what, thankfully, was the carcass of Maugrim off him, finding him alive and fine, just looking quite disgusted about killing the leader of the wolves. The soldiers cheered loudly, and Aslan smiled, before handing the other wolf over to the Ranger and Oreius, who grabbed him aggressively.

"Peter, clean your sword," Aslan said, walking up to Peter.

Peter cleaned his sword; then knelt reverently before Aslan, his sword pointed into the grass. Aslan lifted his paw and placed it on Peter's shoulder, resting it there for a moment, then removed it and put it back on the ground.

"Arise; Sir Peter Wolfsbane – Knight of Narnia!" Aslan proclaimed, looking down at Peter, who gazed back at Aslan in awe. He thanked Aslan and ran to hug his sisters, who were smiling widely, overcome with excitement. After hugging his sisters, Peter looked at Aslan quizzically, gesturing to the captive wolf.

Aslan turned to the Ranger, who was still restraining the wolf with the help of Oreius. The Ranger released its hold on the wolf, removing the bindings. The wolf howled and ran away hurriedly, heading to the northwest.

"Follow his tracks!" Aslan instructed, looking at the Ranger. "He'll lead you to Edmund."

Peter gave Aslan a startled look as the Ranger nodded, and let out a piercing whistle. There was a loud neigh, and a magnificent, midnight black horse cantered over to the Ranger, various weapons strapped to the saddle. Oreius took the reigns as the Ranger knelt before Aslan, head bowed low. Aslan placed his paw on the Ranger's shoulder for a brief moment, whispering in the Ranger's ear.

The Ranger nodded, thanked Aslan and stood up. Taking the reins from Oreius and mounting, the Ranger kicked the horse in the sides and galloped away, disappearing quickly over the hill. Aslan, Peter, his sisters and Oreius watched the Ranger go, with Peter hoping in his heart that the Ranger would bring Edmund back without difficulty.

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**There you go, hope it was good enough for you. Please review! Not too bad flames, pls!**  



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